The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance
Pop Disciple Film & TV Reviews by Sean Shepherd
© Netflix
Otherworldly.
There’s a quality that rarely occurs by accident. Some filmmakers, like Panos Cosmatos and Nicholas Winding Refn, manage it with striking colors, unusual pacing, and a distinct soundtrack in such works as Mandy or The Neon Demon. In 1982, we were given a vision of “otherworldly” that no one had seen before. One that took the word entirely at face value.
It started with a single painting from an artist named Brian Froud. It depicted a large troll standing in the forest with a waterfall coming off of its nose. Jim Henson, despite the success of hits like Sesame Street and the all-encompassing Muppet characters, had never thought of himself as a “child entertainer.”
Even while working on the first muppet film, he sought the opportunity to momentarily set aside the fast-paced, comedy variety show model he was known for and try something with more depth. A complex narrative epic that would show the world the true heights of his imagination and versatility. He stumbled upon a book with Froud’s painting on the cover, and soon after, the artist would receive a phone call from the muppet master himself.
The Dark Crystal was one of those massive, passionate experiments in film that leaves an unshakable impression. It was the biggest, most ambitious gamble The Henson Company ever undertook. The result was something that would have no analogue in the history of cinema. Every plant, animal, and set genuinely looked like it was from another world. No human characters. No stop-motion animation. No digital effects (they didn’t exist). The first cut of the film had many scenes that didn’t even have dialogue in a real language — a decision that was eventually reversed to give the audience more access to this strange new world.
In the film, the Skeksis are cruel, vulturous creatures — the result of a once-noble race, the Ur-Skeks, splitting into two due to their magical experiments. A group of hunched, gentle beings known as Mystics comprise the other half. The titular Dark Crystal is the heart of the world, but it is cracked and corrupted from the greed of the Skeksis. After a thousand years of feeding off the world and all its denizens, the Skeksis have only one threat remaining to their endless rule: the last remaining members of a race they nearly annihilated, the Gelflings. They are prophesied to return the lost shard of the crystal, forcing the Skeksis and the Mystics to become one once more and restoring balance in the world.
The Dark Crystal managed to make enough of a profit to be the sixteenth highest-grossing film of 1982 in North America, but broad audiences were either lukewarm or just confused. Predictably, association with Jim Henson gave the impression that it would be a kid’s film. But when it elicited in those kids as much pants-shitting terror as it did wonder, many parents left the theatre with a bad taste in their mouths. The death of the Skeksis Emperor, the sight of adorable creatures strapped into chairs, and their life force drained, and Aughra’s ugly face were undoubtedly staples in the nightmares of a generation. I saw it myself for the first time when I was about seven and felt that peculiar combination of repulsion and attraction that characterized the horror films my mother would let me see at far too young an age. Further, it suffered the same fate as the incredible John Carpenter entry, The Thing, in that its audience was already devoured by Stephen Spielberg’s E.T.
But then there’s the hardest part to accept for fans like myself. As fondly remembered as the original Dark Crystal might be, from a storytelling perspective, it’s a total mess. Its hero is whiny and ineffectual, completely overshadowed in personality and agency by his supporting heroine. The world-building, visually brilliant and immersive as it is, devolves into convoluted high fantasy mumbo jumbo. The main villain, whose small, gleaming eyes, obsequious voice, and cunning grin so perfectly embody the sneaky, lying opportunist, never gets much chance to demonstrate those skills beyond saying “mmmMMM!” every ten seconds. Even its staunchest defenders have to concede that the full narrative potential of the world it created was far from realized.
A few years ago, if you had told me that there was even a conversation about reviving The Dark Crystal as anything but a CGI or animated film, I’d have asked for proof. The obscene expense of the project alone would have made it too much of a gamble. Besides, the original film, while beloved, was no Star Wars in terms of its success. A handful of comics and Y.A. novels in The Dark Crystal universe were published in the years since its release and were well-received critically, but your average production company would hardly see that as a guaranteed return. But not only did Netflix bankroll the production, they also shot down the idea of using anything except puppetry as the primary medium. Then they put their prequel series in the same hands that engineered and conceived the original: The Jim Henson Company.
The result is a ten-hour epic that clings stubbornly to everything that made The Dark Crystal a work of art but adds all the pieces that were missing to make it a great story. Set an indeterminate time before the events of the original film, The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance seeks to both resolve its contradictions and elevate its narrative.
Aughra, the creator goddess, was given a great orrery and knowledge of astral travel by the Skeksis in exchange for stewardship of what was once called the Crystal of Truth, and by extension, ruling Thra (the world). Trusting the Skeksis, she has spent ages astral projecting herself across the universe in search of knowledge to bring back to her children on Thra. As will surprise no one, the Skeksis have made poor rulers. They dominate the seven Gelfling clans, exhorting them into paying tribute in exchange for knowledge and security. Unbeknownst to their vassals, however, the Skeksis have corrupted the crystal to prolong their lives unnaturally. The land is beginning to suffer a blight that is destroying plant life and driving animals insane.
In their search for a new way to cheat death, the Skeksis find that they can use the Crystal of Truth to drain the essence from other living creatures. Rian, a palace guard, witnesses his lover’s murder and draining at their claws. The Skeksis frame him for the act after he escapes, and he fights an uphill battle trying to convince his people of the Skeksis’ crimes. In many ways, he’s the traditional high fantasy hero: brave, proud, eager to prove his worth and clear his name.
Deet, part of a subterranean clan of Gelfling, is attacked by her family’s domestic animals affected by the corruption of the land. The roots of a sacred tree give her a vision of what the corruption called the Darkening would do to the land — and to her — if she doesn’t stop it. She’s resourceful, honest, and warm, but also naïve and vulnerable.
Brea, a knowledge-obsessed princess of the most powerful Gelfling clan, sees the Skeksis’ lust for tribute at a tithing ceremony and begins to suspect their motives. Her relentless thirst for the truth begins to uncover secrets that will change her world forever. She is willful, clever, and knowledgeable, but also stubborn and a touch arrogant.
If these characters sound like blatant archetypes, it’s because they are. But that’s what makes it all work. It isn’t a deconstruction of fantasy like Game of Thrones, it’s a high fantasy story from root to leaf, just as the original Dark Crystal was meant to be. The difference here is that the characters are playing their roles properly and with complete conviction.
If the Skeksis were scary in the original, they’re even scarier to contend with in Age of Resistance. These Skeksis are considerably more cerebral and eloquent than their 1982 counterparts, with more complex relationships. Their internecine power struggles serve to keep their situation dynamic as they respond to the budding crisis.
Rather than aging rulers of a dying world, we instead see the Skeksis at the height of their power and splendor. The world has barely begun to show the results of their abuses, and they have the trust and willing servitude of their subject peoples, the Gelflings. They expertly use the prejudice the Gelfling clans hold against each other to distract them from their own exploitation. They use the carrot of their great knowledge and protection to secure their misplaced loyalty. They have it down to such a science that they’re able to make the Gelflings pressure each other into granting them ever-greater tithes. Exemplifying this manipulative side is, without a doubt, my favorite character and old hand from the original: SkekSil, the Chamberlain (Simon Pegg/Katherine Smee/Warrick Brownlow-Pike).
The Chamberlain is a puppet master that could stand beside Game of Thrones’ Little Finger or Othello’s Iago. Throughout the series, his ingratiating voice bends character after character to his will. Even when his schemes fail, he adapts quickly by either securing new allies or changing enemies into allies. Watching him work is so satisfying that if Machiavelli had been alive to see it, he would have put SkekSil’s face on the front cover of The Prince. For all his cold machinations, there is a twist of irony to his character: he’s one of the few Skeksis that sees the value of restraint, and he is rarely wrong.
On the brute force side of the equation, there are two new Skeksis in Thra: SkekMal, the Hunter (Ralph Ineson/Kevin Clash), and SkekVar, the General (Benedict Wong/Kevin Clash). The Hunter is hungry for a challenge and is utterly contemptuous of the palace court and its squabbles — by far the most vicious and uncompromising of them all. The General is a short-tempered brute with a fierce, unbending loyalty to the Emperor SkekSo and the Chamberlain’s primary rival amongst the Skeksis.
The Emperor (Jason Isaacs/Victor Yerrid) is, appropriately, a synthesis of these two qualities. Still a long way from his deathbed, he wields his power with an air of absolute authority. When promoting a subordinate, he responds to the expected “I am honored” with an unambiguous “No. You are commanded.” The others may scheme, quarrel, and whisper to advance their position, but there is no question of who’s in charge.
As would no doubt have pleased Jim Henson, by far the most complex character in this story is Thra itself. In the finest tradition of the original Dark Crystal, every set thrums with a distinct energy, from the natural strength of Stone-in-the-Wood’s tree dwellings to the jagged, aggressive architecture of the Crystal Palace. From the dirty, mushroom-shaped hovels of the potato-faced Podlings to the labyrinthine, algae-lit caves of Grot. The world breathes in ways few fantasy worlds do, and the creatures that occupy it feel like they belong there. The Gelfling clans, for example, are identified and characterized by where they come from. Much like the characters, the strokes are broad but effective. The Vapran, Brea’s clan, come from the mountains and have snowy hair and paler skin. They consider themselves the highest, most cultured clan. The Grottan, Deet’s clan, dwell in the caves beneath the soil and have larger eyes with no whites to them and larger ears for better hearing. They live humble, simple lives, feeding on the naturally growing algae and raising herd animals. This sense of deep connection between the setting and its characters is an integral part of the series’ identity.
Another critical part is, obviously, the puppets. In 1982, the Jim Henson Company took what they had learned from their work on Star Wars and improved upon it for the original Dark Crystal. Working off the designs of Brian Froud, the final product was a set of creatures and landscapes so iconic that, in spite of the film’s weak story, interest in the world of Thra continued long after it cycled out of theatres. The landscape of technology has changed a lot since then, with CGI gradually overtaking practical effects as the go-to method. The change has been so drastic that many viewers are grateful even to see old-fashioned squibs instead of CGI blood effects. Those that ache for practical effects will be overjoyed to see that Age of Resistance overwhelmingly favors practical over digital. Reflecting on the advances of technology and method, the puppets are more expressive and dynamic than ever.
The Gelflings, which bedeviled Jim Henson with their stiffness back in the eighties, have been greatly improved. They emote considerably more but retain a relative simplicity that still lets the puppeteers imply emotions through gesture and body language. The few digital effects take a page from Jurassic Park’s book, mostly staying relegated to things that aren’t seen too close up, like landscapes and dynamic character movements seen from a distance. But there’s another effect that impressed me much more because of what I didn’t see; there are creatures that clearly aren’t CGI, but move in ways that don’t make sense for a puppet. I found myself doing something I haven’t done in years: I scratched my head and wondered “how the hell did they do that?” Later I learned that there were extra puppeteers dressed in mono-color suits that were digitally removed from the shot. It looked so perfect that it brought me back to a time when I was too young to understand what an effect even was. That said, there are some quibbles, like the use of CGI to animate the tongues of the Skeksis in some scenes but not others, or other moments when it’s just a little too close for comfort. But honestly, watching a Skeksis puppet fight two Gelflings with a blade in all four limbs could have been worth the price of admission all on its own.
For any concerned about Age of Resistance maintaining the proud tradition of scaring the piss-shit out of children, fear not — or fear more, because the writers for this show apparently took a good long look at scenes like the Emperor’s death and thought nope — not scary enough! The Dark Crystal was the product of a time when a P.G. rating meant something (PG-13 didn’t exist until 1984), and Age of Resistance feels determined to make it mean something again — I haven’t seen a show that pushes it this far in years. There’s the obvious stuff, like the draining of life force from several Gelflings and the general grotesqueness of the Skeksis, but there’s plenty of new fears as well. Carpets of piranha-like mushrooms dragging characters into their pits, an insect called the Peeper Beetle — I’ll let you figure that one out yourself — and others I wouldn’t dream of spoiling. Scares were potent enough that Netflix felt the need to publish a set of timestamps entitled “Scary Moments (For the Parents of Littles).”
It’s important to point out that these frightening moments don’t exist merely to tick off a box. Throughout the story, death and grief are continuous threads informing the motivations of the characters. In fact, the ways they handle death and grief are indicative of who they are. The Skeksis, for example, commit some of their most terrible acts out of fear of death. And when confronted with it, they do everything in their power to deny it, going so far as to embalm the deceased, dress them in armor, and rig them up on pulleys to give the appearance of life. The Gelflings, however, having no illusions about their lifespan, have no choice but to accept death, and see it as part of a continuous cycle. Even still, they struggle with their grief as a human would, by being guilt-ridden, wrathful, or rationalizing.
The emotional weight is carried further by a score that knows exactly how to set the mood, with Mandolins and wood flutes for the Podlings, naturalistic, tribal instruments for the Gelflings, and brooding brass and string instruments for the Skeksis. Daniel Pemberton and Samuel Sim navigate through soaring triumph as easily as creeping dread, intrigue as well as light fun. Major bonus points are in order for entwining the music with the world-building, having characters occasionally sing or chant in their own distinct languages. There’s a scene where the Gelflings and their Podling friend throw an impromptu funeral ceremony, and one by one, they begin to sing. It’s a powerful moment of solidarity in the hardest of times, partly because we, the audience, don’t know what the lyrics mean, but can easily recognize the feelings they convey.
Talking about performances in the context of a project like Age of Resistance is very complicated because even a single character requires the coordination of two or more people. Unlike animation, there is no clear dividing line between the character we see and the voice actor. Even muppets — almost always voiced by their puppeteers — are no analogue for the semi-animatronic creatures in Crystal. A Gelfling, for example, has the primary puppeteer, the voice actor, and often a secondary puppeteer controlling subtle details like eye movements. I will broadly say that the Jim Henson Company would have done its founder proud, and you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who could have done a better job.
As for the voices, where do I start? Rapper and actress Awkwafina does a retching, nasal whine as the pustule-ridden SkekLach, the Collector, that’s as hilarious as it is disgusting. Nathalie Emmanuel gives Deet a sense of childlike wonder and sweetness so honest it provokes a kind of protective outrage when terrible things befall her. Ralph Ineson’s ravenous, booming growl as SkekMal the Hunter takes relatively unremarkable lines like “You have heart. I’ll take that, too!” and makes them the stuff of nightmares. Simon Pegg’s impression of Barry Dennon from the original film is nearly perfect as SkekSil the Chamberlain, charmingly placating one moment and stone cold the next. Donna Kimball’s performance as Aughra is one of the more complex, portraying an outwardly grouchy disposition while belying a loving and guilt-ridden heart, like a drunk grandmother who got sober in time for her grandkids. Victor Yerrid will undoubtedly have created a fan favorite in Hup, the courageous, spoon-wielding Podling who dreams of becoming a Paladin. He speaks in a mishmash of English and his native tongue but expresses himself so bluntly he never fails to be understood. What’s more, he is one of a handful of major characters that are voiced and puppeteered by the same person.
The direction is dynamic, but not overstated. In part, this is a consequence of working with puppets: the majority of scenes have to show non-Skeksis characters from the waist up. But there are benefits to this limitation. A lot of attention is paid to scale; even when the situation is calm, the camera spends a moment or two to show how much larger and more imposing the Skeksis are beside the Gelflings. And while the sets are not what you would call small, the fact that they are contained makes giving scenes a clear sense of geography a bit simpler than it otherwise might be. Effort is made to get the best possible use out of the meticulously crafted sets, which are so numerous and detailed that you have to wonder if the crew behind them ever slept in the six months they had to build them all. The landscape shots create a palpable sense of wonder, and despite their CGI creation, grant a sense of tangible grandeur that manages to trickle down to the live sets, so they never feel disconnected. Puppets fighting is hard to pull off, but with some modest digital effects and savvy camera work, they manage to be exciting and comprehensible, lessons no doubt learned from director Louis Letterier’s work on the first two Transporter films.
Most of the time, when someone tries to revive a fondly remembered gem, they smash it to pieces trying to get at whatever gives it its power, but every now and then, we get a Dredd or a Blade Runner 2049. Those rare moments when they pick it up gently, clean off the dust and grime, and set in a golden crown. While the Crystal might finally feel complete, I certainly hope it isn’t finished.
Watch the official trailer for The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance.
Streaming now on Netflix.
Listen to Daniel Pemberton and Samuel Sim’s score for Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance.
Author | Sean Shepherd
Editor | Alex Sicular
Layout | Ruby Gartenberg